A Plan Made
by Morninglight
Summary: Sequel to 'A Sword Forged'. Lia, though she doesn't know it, induces others to make plans around her.


Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing!

…

"Ralof!"

The Dragonborn turned to find the Norc woman who claimed to be an Alik'r striding up towards him, clad in furs instead of the robes she'd been wearing when he last saw her. There was something different about her – an aura of grief and realisation – and he noted both the ice wraith tooth and the silver-blue scars on her olive-bronze skin.

"If you've been wondering where I've been, I was sent up to fight an ice wraith by Ulfric, got side-tracked to Whiterun because Balgruuf had a bounty out on me and the Companions found me, wound up joining the warriors of Jorrvaskr and got kicked out of the Alik'r because Kematu was a barely competent asshole," Lia explained sardonically. "I see you've been recognised by the Greybeards."

The pureblood allowed himself a short, sharp laugh. "That was only the tip of it," he answered. "I met a Blade called Delphine, who had taken the Horn of Yurgen Windcaller from Ustengrav, and just returned from Kynesgrove. Alduin is raising the dead dragons to serve him once more… and Delphine believes the Thalmor are behind it."

"Delphine, the Second Blade?" Lia's huge turquoise eyes flickered with recognition at the name. "My uncle always spoke… fondly… of her."

"Yeah." Ralof gestured to a seat in the Candlehearth Hall for the Norc to take. A Companion – even if she was just currently a whelp – would make for a powerful ally. Ulfric might have expressed his opinions at her absence but the Dragonborn could hardly fault the woman for dealing with her bounty and seeking out Jorrvaskr. "She wants me – a prominent bodyguard of Ulfric's – to go to Solitude, infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy, and acquire information about the dragons."

"Malacath titty-fucking Mowhra, is she senile or just trying to get you killed?" Lia asked dryly as she sat down. Ralof noted that Susannah the Wicked regarded the Norc with more than a hint of respect. "It's possible the Thalmor arranged events to see Alduin's return, but even they aren't powerful enough to control the World-Eater."

"You understand my problem." Ralof accepted a flagon of mead while Lia went for herbal tea. "I believe there's critical intelligence in there, but until Alduin is bound again-"

"You're indispensable." Lia's expression was both wry and grim at once. "I'm… not a brilliant infiltrator, truth be told."

Ralof nodded. "I agree. But you are good at finding people who are."

The Norc raised an eyebrow. "You want me to hire the Thieves' Guild?"

He simply inclined his head. "I am willing to share the intelligence with you."

Lia pursed her lips… and then shook her head slowly. "My ancestors did every dirty little job Talos asked them to do, and it corrupted both them and the Stormcrown. If you want something questionable done, Ralof, get your own hands dirty."

"I thought the Blades had to do what the Dragonborn commanded them." Ralof kept his voice level.

"I'm not a Blade. I'm a whelp of the Companions and an Ansei Shehai – Sword-Saint." Lia met his gaze easily. "I will be your ally, Ralof Dragonborn, but I am _no one's_ lackey."

"Call yourself a saint, eh?" Ralof found himself asking mockingly.

Those turquoise eyes glittered like sea-ice before she reached out and curled her fingers in an intricate pattern. A short, thick-bladed sword forged from legendary stalhrim manifested in her sword-hand, its pommel orichalcum and hawk feathers patterning its icy length. "My Soul Sword. I was thrown out of the Alik'r because Kaan and Shor answered my prayers while the Greybeards were greeting you."

Ralof tore his eyes away from the weapon, the same colour as Lia's gaze, and nodded slowly. "I… apologise," he said. His inner dovah was unimpressed at apologising to a joor, a mortal, but he told it to shut up because she was an Akaviri.

Lia shook her fingers, dismissing the weapon. "I will try and talk some sense into the Jarls, as much as a whelp is permitted to," she finally said. "If nothing else, we need to call a truce."

"Ulfric may disagree with that," Ralof said warningly. "He… is not impressed with you."

"The Jarl of Windhelm can go fuck himself if he'll put his ego above the need for peace until Alduin is bound and banished," Lia said loudly, her voice reaching to the far corners of the Candlehearth Hall's common room. "I'm no fan of the Empire myself, but I can swallow my pride until the dragons are dealt with."

Ralof nearly choked on his mead. Even he wasn't ready to challenge Ulfric… yet. But it seemed Lia held a grudge over essentially being sent to die by the Jarl.

"The World-Eater has returned?" Calixto Corrium flinched, his voice shaky with fear. The Imperial was tolerated because he worshipped regularly at the Shrine of Talos and because he was a useful source of esoteric knowledge that Wuunferth the Unliving didn't know or wouldn't share.

"He has," Ralof confirmed, rising to his feet. "But his Bane has also returned."

He allowed a hint of the Thu'um to enter his Voice, shaking the building slightly so that everyone within gasped. Except for Lia, whose eyes were narrowed as she watched him. The Norc woman was shrewd and canny; not an infiltrator, but skilled at reading people. Ralof would be glad to have her on his side.

_If she could become Harbinger…_ Ralof could use the leader of the Companions on his side.

"As a Companion, even a whelp, you are neutral and no man dare raise his hand to you unless you violate guest-right or Hold Law," Ralof explained to her. "Even Ulfric will respect that."

Lia nodded. "I'll see if I can talk Kodlak into calling some kind of meeting."

Ralof mentally sighed in relief. Lia would be allowing him to focus on more important matters. The Legion had to go; Colovians had no right to be in Skyrim. It was a shame they couldn't (yet) have an alliance with the Redguards, but from what that Tammas had implied, the warriors of Hammerfell believed very strongly in earning what you wanted. He could respect that.

"Include your kinfolk in the invitation," he advised quietly. "The Norcs control a critical part of Skyrim's eastern trade route."

Lia looked down to her stalhrim shortsword and nodded. "I suspect Malacath wants me to go there regardless."

The Norc woman drained her herbal tea and rose to her feet. "Don't let Ulfric distract you," she advised softly. "Alduin is the priority."

"I agree." Ralof rolled his neck and audibly sighed. Since the greeting by the Greybeards, his destiny had become apparent. He just needed to overcome Alduin and remove the Legion from Skyrim.

_And then we can deal with the Thalmor…_ "Will you be staying in Windhelm tonight?" With the loot from Sahloknir's belly, he could stand the woman a decent room.

Lia shook her head with a wry smile. "I was only on this side of Skyrim to look for you. I'll check out Kynesgrove and the dragon mound up there to show the Companions what to look for."

_She gets a cold welcome from the Stormcloaks, she means._ Ralof was beginning to see the foolishness displayed by some of his brethren. Alienating the Argonians and Dunmer only made for Imperial agents, so he'd taken to running minor errands for the people on the docks and Grey Quarter. Already, the dour Dunmer were speaking a little less angrily about Ralof Dragonborn and several Argonians called him friend.

"Your kin's keep isn't too far from Kynesgrove," he said, drawing out a parchment and sketching a rough map with some charcoal. "It's on the trade road between Whiterun and Windhelm."

"Thanks." Lia looked relieved as she took the map.

Ralof gave her a friendly smile. Her shortsword was stalhrim, and since she called it a soul sword, that meant she had the soul of a Nord (well, Norc). That was good enough for him; in the days to come, he would need true allies.

_Delphine is attempting to manipulate me. Lia, on the other hand, is being remarkably honest. If she has half the Blades training of Delphine, I won't need the Breton._

Lia left soon after, giving Ralof a warm farewell. He watched the Norc walk away, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully. The sooner she became Harbinger, the better.

_I might just need to catch up with my old friend Krev…_

…

Oleg gro-Half-Moon tugged his hood a little more down as the Dragonborn arose from his seat and left Candlehearth Hall. Luaffyn had been glad to have another bard present in the inn, even if it was the Norc who'd been top of his year, and was now resting her fingers after playing all night. Elda Early-Dawn had become remarkably polite to the Norcs after his estranged cousin had rearranged Rolff Stone-Fist's ugly face.

_What _are_ you playing at, Ralof Dragon-Born?_ the bard mused silently as his fingers danced across the lute, producing an intricate arpeggio from _The Last Emperor_. Ralof had been one of Ulfric's most devoted followers but with the Jarl of Windhelm treating the Dragonborn like a lackey, a rift had formed.

The political landscape of Skyrim was shifting like clouds on the northern storm-winds. The Norcs of Half-Moon Hold weren't too fond of the Empire – not after Titus Mede II had led Sigdrifa be murdered in the Great Chapel of Talos. Until news of a turquoise-eyed, olive-skinned Norc woman reached Hrafn the Foe-Reaper, Oleg's father, they had believed Lia dead with her mother.

_Trained as an Ansei Shehai _and _a Blade. Now I see why Kodlak was so insistent on one of our daughters joining the Companions._ The Harbinger was capable of prescience, made so during the process that made him the arbiter of Skyrim's honour. With dragons stirring, Oleg could well understand why the heirs of Ysgramor would want Lia amongst their ranks.

_Hmm, there's something about that blade of ice which tags at my memory…_ When Torygg died, Oleg threw himself into studying every scrap of prophecy available at the Bardic College. He'd even managed to find, scribed in Old Atmoran, a Dovahzul primer and managed to tease out the meaning of the words at Shearpoint. Some Nords assumed that the slight rumble to his voice was the natural result of his Orcish ancestry, but Oleg knew better.

_I'm pretty sure it's blasphemous to use the Voice to call Arakh a skeever's rotting left testicle and him be unable to figure out who did it, but damned if it isn't enjoyable!_

His fingers slowed, plucking the strains of _The Fall of Bruma._ It pleased Ulfric to talk about the Nords of Skyrim suffering because of the White-Gold Concordat, but he knew nothing of what the Bruma Nords had gone through. He probably didn't even consider them real Nords.

_Home of the Summer Wind…_ Oleg sighed inwardly. He needed to approach Lia before she reached Half-Moon Hold. They needed to talk.

_Balgruuf was certainly frank about his intentions for her!_ Lia was a handsome woman, even by human standards; her enormous eyes and slight under-fangs looked exotic, not monstrous, and her voice had a growl that many humans would call erotic. Oleg had to congratulate the Jarl on his good taste.

_She won't take kindly to being manipulated. Ralof certainly tried._ But from the little Oleg had heard about Irkand Aurelius, the Third Blade wouldn't raise a fool.

_So the whirlwind of politics unwinds even as the end of days tightens on the gyre… _Oleg's fingers stilled the lute, cutting the last note short. Luaffyn would have to finish her shift; he needed to leave in a hurry.

_Father isn't capable of dealing with this. Not with his sickness._ And none of his brothers understood the world outside of Half-Moon Hold as Oleg did.

_Gods help me. I'm going to have to challenge him. And them._ And Oleg was the weakest fighter of the four sons of Hrafn Half-Moon.

The Norc rose as abruptly as Ralof had. Whether Lia understood it or not, her mere presence in Skyrim shook the political landscape as much as the sky shook at the thunder of the Greybeards' Thu'um.

Sigdrifa's daughter, in coming home, might just destroy her people as surely as Alduin would destroy the world if not stopped. Malacath have mercy on them all.


End file.
